Clear Incentives
by JamesLuver
Summary: John needs a little incentive to stay in bed, and Anna is more than happy to provide it.


**A/N:** For my dearest friend Kate, who has finally caught me up again. She's the creature of quicksilver and light to my dark brooding. It's still your birthday here so Happy Birthday! This is just a bit of sweet silliness because the lighthearted prompt reminded me of you. And you've still got some Team Bates loving to look forward to. ;)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Downton Abbey_.

* * *

_Clear Incentives_

The alarm clock sounded through the bedroom.

It was not an unusual sound in the Bates household. Ever since they had moved down to the cottage, it had become a job saving staple in their everyday life. John was typically up before the sun, years of insomnia having ingrained themselves into his soul, but Anna often slept soundly until it was time to leave the warmth of their sheets, and even then that was usually only achievable when the shrill sound of the alarm clock's indignant ringing nigh on perforated her eardrums. And, on the mornings when John managed to rouse Anna before the crack of dawn for with tender kisses that quickly led to more, it served as a strict reminder that they weren't the governors of their own time.

This morning, however, its nefarious scheme was defeated. Rousing sleepily well before she needed to, Anna rolled onto her side and slammed the alarm clock off before it could begin its evil shrieking. John chuckled beside her, his eyes still closed, reaching out to pull her back into the warm circle of his arms.

"I don't know about Mr. Carson having a personal vendetta against toasters," he said, his voice hoarse, "I think one day you'll declare war on alarm clocks around the world."

"Whoever invented them needs a jolly good slap," Anna agreed, tucking her head under her husband's chin and breathing in the musky scent of sleep and sweat on his skin. "It was bad enough having to get up at six."

"You don't regret it, though?" he said, his hand ghosting down her side to settle on her hip. She shivered pleasantly, but remained straight-faced.

"Only until the first cup of tea."

"The first cup of tea, eh? Nothing can tempt you to change your mind beforehand?"

His hand had started to slide inwards, stroking her stomach with the tips of his fingers. She squirmed. That touch never failed to set her on fire.

"I don't think so," she said, the wavering of her voice betraying her.

"Nothing at all? That's rather a pity," he mused. His fingers trailed lower and…_oh_. Anna couldn't stop her involuntary gasp as his fingers settled themselves right where she needed them to be. He caught her mouth in a kiss that very nearly made her forget her name, and his lips curled into a smile as he continued his ministrations.

For a while, she forgot all about her vendetta against early morning starts.

* * *

Still gasping for breath, Anna slid from her husband's lap, coming to a boneless rest on the mattress by his side. John reached across to grasp at her hand, his own breathing heavy and uneven.

"Well," he said, and offered nothing more.

"Lost for words, Mr. Bates?" she teased.

"That's one way of framing it. You are a naughty girl, Anna Bates."

"I thought you already knew that," she said.

He laughed hoarsely, coaxing her closer to kiss. She went eagerly, humming in the back of her throat as he deepened it. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, peering into her eyes.

"I could lie like this all day," she said dreamily, her fingers moving to trace patterns through his chest hair.

His sigh was long and wistful, letting her know that he felt the same. But he loosened his grip on her, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

"What are you doing?" she demanded as he ran a hand through his hair.

"We've got work," he reminded her. "And I think our morning deviation has delayed us quite enough. Look at the time."

She half-rolled over to take in the sight of those horrific hands goading her with the confines of the hour. Almost five thirty. They needed to be up at Downton no later than twenty past six for their morning duties before breakfast. Huffing in exasperation, she turned stubbornly from the sight, pulling the covers up over her head.

"I hate that thing," she said, not even sure that he could hear what she was saying.

John laughed again, and she felt the pressure of his hands as he tugged the blankets away. "Believe me, darling, on mornings like this I hate it too."

"Can't we have five more minutes?" she pleaded.

"I know what your five minutes are. Half an hour later and you're still insisting that they're not over yet."

"Can you blame me?" she purred. "Look at my very handsome husband."

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head, an amused smile playing about the corners of his mouth. "Flattery is not going to work this morning."

She pouted, changing tact. "What are you trying to say? That you don't enjoy lying with me like that?"

"You know very well that there isn't much that delights me more than simply lying with you by my side. Trying to make me feel guilty won't work either."

"It usually does," she muttered. It wasn't a technique that she used very often to her advantage, knowing what a brooder she had married, but on occasions it had proved to be very fruitful. Like that time they had arranged a picnic for their half-day, only for John to have to change their plans last minute. She had lamented over their lost afternoon of peace, and John had gone to great lengths to make it up to her – both in the planning of another picnic and the sanctuary of their cottage. Anna's toes still curled just thinking about it.

"I'll go and freshen up first," he said. "You can stay here until I'm done."

Anna pouted. "I'd rather you be here with me."

"Needs must, darling." With one last kiss, John heaved himself out of bed, reaching for his pyjama bottoms and his undershirt. She watched with great interest and more than a little disappointment in her mind as he covered his naked body from her view. Running his hand through his hair one more time, he limped from the room. She sighed, flopping onto her back and glowering at the ceiling. She had a good job, a steady position and decent money. But sometimes living a life of servitude did impede on her life with her husband. The sanctuary of marriage was supposed to give them more time to spend together than an exhausted hour at the end of the day.

As she lamented their misfortune in a way that only someone worn out by the early mornings could, her eyes landed on John's clothes, hanging neatly. An idea began to form in her mind.

John always called her his naughty girl. Now she would prove the truth of those words.

* * *

John returned from the bathroom ten minutes later, freshly shaven and freshly washed. The hair over his forehead which fell stubbornly into his eyes was slightly damp, and the sight twisted her stomach in knots.

"Still in bed?" he teased as he limped over to the wardrobe, reaching for his trousers. "Come on, you're going to have to move eventually."

"Yes, eventually," she sighed. "It doesn't have to be right this second."

He laughed, and pulled his trousers on.

But his laughter was short-lived. She watched his brow contort as he finished buttoning them, turning to the place where he had hung his shirt the previous evening and finding it gone.

"Anna," he said slowly, "where has my shirt gone?"

She stretched languidly beneath the sheets. "I couldn't tell you."

"Well, it's hardly walked off by itself, has it?"

"I don't know, I wasn't watching."

"Anna, please. Now is hardly the time for this."

"I truly don't know, John. Are you sure you hung it up?"

"Of course I did."

"You were in rather a hurry last night."

He coloured at her implication, and she couldn't help her grin. Her husband was full of masculine pride, and yet at times he blushed like a maid at her teasing.

"I hung it up," he reasserted. "I didn't want it to get creased."

"Have a proper look around the bedroom then, Mr. Bates."

He cast her a suspicious look, as if he feared some kind of trick, then tentatively opened the wardrobe door.

"You're not going to find it in there," she trilled.

"We don't have time for silly games," he said exasperatedly.

"If that's the case then you really need to hurry up with your search."

Folding his arms across his chest he said, "You're hiding it in that bed with you, aren't you?"

"Why don't you come and find out?" she pressed.

Grumbling under his breath, John crossed the room. He grasped the sheets in both hands, yanked them back…

And his eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat.

Anna pushed herself back into a sitting position, flicking her hair over her shoulders.

"What do you think?" she asked innocently. "Does it suit me?"

Apparently her husband couldn't find words. He simply stared. Her grin widened, and she played with the buttons that she had fastened just below the plunge of her cleavage. If not for the bulge that was quickly making itself known in the front of his trousers, she might have been slightly disconcerted by the silent response.

"Say something," she prompted.

As if coming out of a stupor, John shook his head.

"It suits you better than it suits me," he muttered dazedly. His eyes traced down her form.

Anna threw back her head and laughed. The shirt was far too big for her – John was tall and broad, where she was short and slim. She had rolled the sleeves back several times and they still kept sliding down her forearms. She had practically disappeared inside it.

But she thought she had a reasonable grasp on the things that went off inside a man's head. Even though she and John hadn't been living together as man and wife for long, she had become privy to a whole different side to her stoic husband that almost made him a different person. Seeing his women in his clothes clearly did something to a man.

"I think it would look better on the floor," she said brightly.

When she slipped the first couple of closed buttons loose to reveal the first shy glimpse of her breast, John lunged towards her. She squealed as they tumbled back onto the mattress together, his body pressing into hers. His fingers resumed her mission, clumsy with eagerness.

And she was right. It looked _much_ better strewn on the bedroom floor. And she found that wearing her husband was a much more flattering outfit.

* * *

This whole business of getting used to each other was very good indeed, Anna thought dreamily as she snuggled the crown of her head under John's chin and released a long sigh of satisfaction. His arm came up to wrap around her, keeping her firmly in place on top of him and along the whole length of him. It was a mystery to her how people ever got anything done when there was this to do instead. She knew what she'd rather be doing when she was fixing one of Lady Mary's dresses.

They laid in contented silence for a few minutes more. Anna closed her eyes and relished the rise and fall of his chest, the beat of his heart against her skin.

"I did get my own way, you know," she murmured.

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"Staying in bed a little longer."

She felt his chuckle reverberate in his chest. "That is true. I suppose I should have learned by now to never underestimate you."

"I don't mind reminding you every now and then."

"I don't think I'll mind either," he said huskily, and she smiled when he pressed a kiss to her hair. "But we will have to move now, otherwise we'll never make it to Downton. We're already going to be late, and Mr. Carson will think the whole system is falling down around his ears."

"Staying here all day isn't a bad prospect. That way we'd avoid Mr. Carson's mood," she joked, but this time she didn't argue when he slipped out from under her.

John quickly redressed himself while she moved at a more leisurely pace. He bent down for his shirt and held it up in front of him, pouting.

"What's wrong?" she asked as she tightened her corset.

"My shirt is crinkled from being on the floor," he sighed. "There's no time to press it now."

"No one will notice it beneath your waistcoat. Besides…wasn't it worth it?" she asked, her tone low and sultry. She added a little extra sway to her hips for his benefit as she went to retrieve her dress from the wardrobe.

"You win," he said. "It certainly was."

As he limped up behind her and spanned his hand against her stomach, Anna couldn't help thinking that they were both winners in this particular matter.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm disappearing again now. So much uni work, so little time. But the end is nigh.


End file.
